


Kintsugi

by Lotophagia



Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Character Study, Gen, Healthy Coping Mechanisms, If you don't think Malroth would try to make ALL THE THINGS once he got the ability you're wrong, Look if you had been through what Malroth went through you'd be messed up too, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, My builder loves Babs but is incredibly close friends with Malroth, Post-Game(s), They Make It Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:28:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotophagia/pseuds/Lotophagia
Summary: You know what they say… “When the god of destruction breaks a door, he also punches a hole in the wall to make a window.”Or: In which Malroth practices coping techniques, and makes something new in a way that only he could.
Relationships: Builder & Malroth (Dragon Quest Builders 2), Builder/Babs (Dragon Quest Builders 2)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Kintsugi

It didn’t rain often on the Isle of Awakening, but when it did it was either in gentle patters against the desert sands and sprawling vegetable fields, or grand storms that shook the castle up on the Cerulean Steppe to its foundation. Malroth, god of destruction and apprentice builder, tended to prefer the latter, but tonight - like the past few nights had been - it was a light tapping of raindrops that accompanied the hums and thumps of his pottery wheel.

The pottery wheel (and by extension Malroth) was in a corner of a small workshop lined with shelves, and packed full of clay pots, plates, and statuettes in various stages of drying. Separated from the pottery area by heat-resistant walls was the kiln and forge, and both rooms were far on the opposite edge from the building’s greenhouse, which itself had been placed to take full advantage of the sun rising over the mountain range where Malroth had planned out his home. In between the two areas lay a cooking fire and wooden bed that he called his room, surrounded by every other sort of workstation imaginable; woodworking benches and mechanical tools, paints and an easel and a spinning wheel, pieces of failed stone carvings and blueprints in various states of completion.

It was a cramped space at best, making it tough for most of the other island residents to stay the night aside from Builder Sabine herself, who had gotten used to close spaces with her best friend-slash-apprentice and wasn’t about to let separate buildings or the fact she and Babs were dating deter her. Lulu tended to drop by a couple times a month, though, usually because she wanted someone to boss around and felt that all of Malroth’s clutter was an easy target.

He wasn’t about to tell her that he kept it that way just so they could argue, mind you.

As he started to plan out just where the scrapped projects should go for his friend’s next visit, a sudden “plop” alerted him to the fact that the clay he was working up into a narrow vase shape had collapsed under its own weight, and was now nothing more than a sad glob of muck and wasted effort. Malroth dug into the clay with a growl, ready to chuck it out the window with the rest of his failed attempts from the past week before he stopped himself. He could already hear Sabine’s voice in his head, reciting her advice with the attitude of someone who had to spend a lot of time learning it herself:

“Something not turning out how you want isn’t a failure, you just learned how NOT to make it!” And then she’d grin, in that way that was somehow even goofier than her usual expression. “My teacher told me that one! … They told it to me a lot, actually.”

“Why does she always have to be right?” Malroth grumbled before leaning back on his stool and trying to figure out just what went wrong.

The clay had been rising up, so he was putting pressure on it… but not too much, or the piece would have torn in half instead of collapsing. His best guess, then, was that he had forgotten to recenter the top of the vase while being lost in thought, causing the whole thing to spin off-balance and topple. Annoying, but nothing he couldn’t redo easily enough.

Still, the mistake had gotten Malroth frustrated and restless, and he stretched out his back before taking a glance around the workshop and all the other misshapen clay works that were drying out before their turn in the kiln. Grumbling a bit more, he stood up to have a change from his previous hunched-over stance when he noticed the small sign by the window, written with even more advice from his well-meaning companion:

"Feeling frustrated?

Don’t fret, F.R.E.T.!

  * Food and water!
  * Rest!
  * Exercise!
  * Talk to someone!"



Alright, fine, he’d play it her way.

Malroth didn’t really need to eat or drink, being a god and all, though he couldn’t convince Sabine of that fact and cooking was still one of the many arts he was trying to master. He couldn’t talk to her either, since she was off visiting Khrumbul-Dun with Babs for her big plan, and everyone else on the island would be asleep. As for rest, well… the whole reason he was working this late was because he couldn’t get to sleep, and he was going to leave it at that, thank you very much.

“Taking a walk, then. Alright, sure.” Making sure to first wash his hands and get any stray dirt out of his hair before the rain turned it to mud, Malroth grabbed a cloak and his weapon, both hanging beside the door, before stepping into the night.

As if the sheer amount of clutter in Malroth’s house didn’t make a visit uncomfortable enough, there was also the fact that he and Sabine had set it up as high as they could manage on the Isle of Awakening’s northern mountain range. But it meant that he had a fantastic view of nearly the entire island (in case of threats, he argued, like there was anything meaning them real harm anymore), as well as the first light of sunrise falling on his greenhouse garden, so any islander who grumbled about the trek would just have to deal with it.

Though she had been worried, he reflected as he looked up and let the rain fall onto his face, cooling his head both figuratively and literally. She made a point to visit at least once a day, when she could, and always offered to help find a better spot. Or set down cart tracks for faster travel, or give him a special reinforced chamber in the castle so he wouldn’t…

Well…

Fine. So Malroth wouldn’t be worried about hurting anyone during one of his nightmares.

He took a seat at the edge of the mountain cliff, looking out over Green Gardens and the fields awaiting tomorrow’s harvest, and gave a long, deep sigh.

It had started a week or two after the… everything… that happened after Moonbrooke. Dreams, or memories, or the memories of his other self: whatever they were, all he could remember were overwhelming feelings of anger and an urge to destroy, the pain of being destroyed and forced to regrow, over and over again, culminating in him waking up surrounded by broken furniture and concerned islanders watching from across the hall. Having someone next to him helped, usually Sabine or even Lulu if she was feeling up to it, but every time they set their night aside for his sake made him feel more and more guilty.

The worst nights were when he could remember the dream exactly. Because it wasn’t even a dream, but remembering the hellish visions Hargon had put him through to awaken as a god. Lashing out at monsters, trying to defend the people he loved, only to find out that they had been the ones at the end of his club the entire time…

It had been one of those dreams that found him awake, trying to perfect a vase before his friend returned from her trip, in the first place.

Malroth sighed again. He couldn’t blame his friends for being worried, since it was him isolating from everyone else that caused the whole crisis in the first place. But that was exactly why he didn’t want to get too close, in case-

“Hey, cut that out!” Just like that, he could hear Sabine’s voice knocking him to his senses again. “It was that creep Hargon behind all this, not you. You’re the reason we’re all still alive and happy, and we want to know you’re okay too, because you’re our friend!”

“Jeez… even when she’s not here, it’s like she knows what I’m thinking.” But Malroth smiled in spite of himself, and continued looking out at the settlement where everyone was likely fast asleep by this time of night. The island had been gearing up for a big harvest festival before the unusually long rainfall had struck, and festivities were on hold until the weather cleared up… though the kids (and some of the adults, and Malroth himself) weren’t above sneaking a couple bites of tomato or strawberries if they thought they could get away with it. Even when Malroth made his way down to the Scarlet Sands, people were planning the games and contests and concerts that would be held, and usually tried to get him in on some of the fun.

Malroth, however, was above all that nonsense, and only agreed to ONE strongest islander match and TWO eating contests.

He couldn’t help but smile, both at the fond memories and in anticipation for the festival. As much as he still couldn’t believe one person could be that optimistic, Sabine… well, she was right. He still liked having some distance from the other islanders in order to clear his head and work out his feelings, but when you got down to it he was a member of the community and there were people who cared about him.

Maybe he’d even take up that offer of a castle room! The idea of being surrounded by walls made him nervous in case it gave that feeling of being like a prison again, but he could trust his friend to make it work. He had been playing with the idea of something open, maybe a big window overlooking the ocean and-

The sound of a crack rang out, muffled by rain but still unmistakable, and Malroth whirled around with his weapon in hand and mind running through possibilities.

Was the town under attack? Castle? Temple? No- the sound was clearly in the direction of his house, and there was nothing past there aside from his pile of failed projects and the sea. 

But if someone had decided to try walking along the cliffs and fell, or-

Or if someTHING had arrived on the island-

Malroth ran to the northern edge of his little plateau so fast that he nearly fell off himself, skidding against the rain-slicked rocks as he scanned up and down where the water met the cliffs.

Nothing there except the waves smacking against rock, and an unlucky ghost that had found itself between the two and was not having a good time of its situation.

“Okay… okay.” Malroth stepped back, placing a hand against his head as he tried to get his breathing under control. “Nothing’s wrong, no one’s being attacked, not hearing any creepy voices. It’s okay.” He continued mumbling affirmations as he strapped the club onto his back once again, trying to think through the situation without panic running interference.

“That leaves… the house, right? Sounded like something fell or broke, but the only thing going is…” he paused mid-step as his thoughts trailed off, only to be replaced with a loud swear as he ran through the front door and towards the forging room. The heat blasting out from the furnaces dried him off as he got to smothering the fire under the pottery kiln, and with a hiss of the last few water droplets evaporating he pried open its large, heavy door…

And was met with shards of dried clay.

The top two shelves had avoided the worst of the blast, though a couple unlucky pots had still been hit by shrapnel and one plate looked like it had broken into three large chunks from the force shaking everything. Further down had been most of Malroth’s smaller pieces, cups and bowls and something that not even he was certain what it was (though Sabine had insisted he try firing it anyway), and aside from the mystery item they had suffered far worse fates.

That was because in the centre of the kiln, where he had cleared some shelving out to make room, was a large clay statue of his best friend.

Or rather, what was left of it.

Malroth was the first to admit- it wasn’t exactly a masterpiece. Figuring out how to make the pigtails look right was a pain, and he was still rather crap at anything involving fine detail, and at one point he had even caved and asked Lulu for help figuring out how to make a wire frame to model the clay around instead of just struggling with posing everything freehand. But it was a statue of Master Builder Sabine, and he was proud of it and he just KNEW she’d be proud as well, and it was going to be proof that he was really learning. Proof that he could… that he was doing better.

And now it had exploded in the kiln, taking some of the other favourite things he’d sculpted so far with it.

“Dammit-!“ He cursed again as he reached into the shelves, not caring about the heat as he pulled out as many pieces as he could. His clothes, being less resilient than himself, got singed as he tried to figure out just what was salvageable; and with his hands shaking as he struggled to keep focus on his emotions and his strength, that wound up being far less than he had first hoped.

Out of the twenty-five or so pieces he had in the kiln, not counting the statue, the survivors totaled three vases (one large and two small), a mismatched set of teacups, the plate-cup-bowl thing, and maybe that large plate if he could make it look… less obviously broken.

“No… no, dammit! How could I have-“ the heat of this workroom that he usually loved started to shove up against him, drying his throat at the same time as his heart felt like it was trying to climb out of his mouth. He had worked so HARD on these, wanted to show her all the things he could MAKE without her help, and now it-

Now he-

He couldn’t breathe-

Malroth stumbled back out into the central workroom, barely noticing as he bumped into a desk before collapsing into the nearest chair. Thoughts he had been trying to ignore ever since the nightmare from a couple hours ago had returned with force, overwhelming his attempts to redirect them or get them quiet again.

What had he expected?

He still had trouble with whipping up a simple bundle of healing herbs that wasn’t more of a thick paste.

Why was he fooling himself?

Did he REALLY think an embodiment of destruction could do anything like this on his own?

Wasn’t the heap of trash just outside proof enough to the contrary?

“How can I fix this…?”

He blinked, even the overwhelming panic and anxiety thrown off by what Malroth had just heard himself say. Fix it? He had seen the kiln, hardly anything in there could be glued together and even less could look as though it had never broken. How could he even think of fixing anything?

But still, if he could…

Malroth took advantage of his distraction to close his eyes, taking several deep breaths as though he was about to charge in and fight an orc instead of his own thoughts. That’s all this was, right? This wasn’t Hargon manipulating him, or a nightmare, or even those sea monsters he still refused to admit that he let Sabine fight off because he hated the sensation of getting thrown around by water currents.

This was him. Panicked and full of doubt, but it was still his own mind, his own thoughts, no matter how dark and powerful they felt.

And he had kicked his own ass before.

“Okay… first things first, right? What went wrong?”

He knew that he had been careful to get everything right in the sculpting itself, secret gift or not. He and Sabine had gone over just how pieces could explode in the kiln when they hadn’t been fully dried first, even running tests on big blocks of clay to see how long a solid piece would take to dry compared to a vase or hollow sculpture. So why…

Malroth tapped his foot against the floor, and was brought back to his senses a little more when he heard a splash of water. The water- when they had run the tests and everything, it had been a usual dry and sunny day on the island. But it had been raining for nearly a week, and even indoors the humidity seemed to get into everything.

“If that meant the statue took longer to dry… shit, no wonder it exploded.” Malroth cursed again, more gently than before the panic attack. “I didn’t even think about that.”

He could feel the monster of anxiety shrink back even more, now that he was armed with that realization and understanding. Yeah, this was just like a fight against a monster! Except it was him… and not in the literal sense, in that thing Lulu called a metaphorical.

Still wasn’t too sure how that even worked, but there were other things to worry about. Like where exactly that puddle of water was coming from.

Malroth got THAT answer as soon as he turned around; when he had rushed out of the forge and into a table, it had knocked over one of the vases he had liked enough to complete. A deep red colour, with a patina that wasn’t intentional but he and the builder still thought looked pretty cool, it had been just large enough to hold a couple long-stemmed flowers from the greenhouse.

The former god couldn’t help but mumble an apology to both it and the flowers as he scooped up the pieces, finding a cup of water to put the plants in before dealing with the rest of the mess. He could still feel his hands shake a bit, panic still holding out at the edges of his thoughts, but with the strength of his understanding- and now, having a straightforward problem with an easy fix - he could sense a feeling of… if not calm, then the ability to do something beyond freaking out, rise up and bolster him.

It wasn’t… well, no, it was still bad, it was one of the few pottery attempts he still liked after making it after all, but most of the pieces were large enough that it could be put back together without a lot of fuss. And one of the last things he had learned before the Builder went off on her trip was how to whip up glues and resins, so that part was covered too.

The main thing was that… again, he had really liked this piece. Not just that, he had been proud of it, and now it was nothing more than a reminder of how destructive he could be. Even if it was put back together… the cracks would still be there, a reminder of his biggest fears and insecurities.

“May as well accept it, I guess.” Any last feelings of anxiety had faded, replaced by tiredness and sadness at the everything from that night, and Malroth couldn’t help but rub his eyes as they began to fill with tears. “Maybe I could pass it off as a new style? She sure tried to argue those herbs still working as a salve.”

Resisting a yawn, Malroth turned back around and set down the (newly-dried) broken vase on the desk, which he now realized was where he had given painting a try for a week or two before getting frustrated and switched to pottery. The piece he had been struggling with was still mounted up on a small easel, having avoided the same fallout of its creator’s panic attack; his attempt at capturing the sunrise over the Isle of Awakening from his house, light glinting off the river they had all worked together to shape long ago like it was liquid gold.

In fact, the jar of gold pigment was still next to it.

Malroth blinked, looking from the jar to the pieces of red vase next to it, then over his shoulder at the shelf where some of the resin components were jarred up and ready for mixing. An idea was cutting through the haze of exhaustion and last bits of frustration, and while he didn’t feel like he had it in him to work on it without some proper sleep… if it worked out…

“… Well,” he mumbled as he grabbed some paper and scribbled the idea down, before making sure any remaining fires in the kiln had been properly snuffed out, “at least I have lots of material to practice on.”

* * *

It took a couple more days for the rain to finally stop, though Malroth had barely noticed. He had managed to make his way down to the island proper a few times, mainly to restock on gold dust and fuel, and had been surprised by how… friendly, everyone had been when they saw him. Maybe it was the weather finally letting up, or the letter Sabine had sent stating they were arriving back soon, or the simple fact that they had always considered him a friend and he had been too wrapped up in his negative thoughts and self-doubt to properly appreciate it…

“… Probably a mix of that last one and the weather,” Malroth reflected. Breakthrough or no breakthrough, there were still some things for him to work on.

He was pretty happy with his work on the vase, however. Everything had been set into place, the spots where he had to fill gaps and repaint had dried beautifully, and he had even ran a successful test to make sure it could still hold water. All that was left was to place it inside the gift box-

And make sure not to drop and smash the whole thing (again!) in surprise at the loud shriek of joy that rang out over the whole island.

“Goddamn, was that LULU? She didn’t even scream that loud when she caught the slimes in the bathhouse!” Box still in hand, he ran out and to the edge of the cliff to try and suss out just where that cry had come from. It didn’t sound scared or in pain - more excited than anything, really - and it sounded pretty much due south of where he was. Granted, that still put a lot of possible places she could be, though the ship on the southern dock was-

Wait, a ship?

“SABINE’S BACK!” Malroth cheered, promptly caught himself, remembered that no one was up there with him and ever fewer people didn’t already know how badly he missed his friend, cheered again, and jumped down to start his run towards the dock where Brownbeard, Sabine, and Babs were trying to disembark and get out of Lulu’s all-consuming embrace at the same time.

“SABINE!” Malroth called out, now close enough to see the four islanders laughing and celebrating their reunion, bags and chests of gear and goods left on the boat in everyone’s excitement.

“…! MALROTH!” There was a minor scuffle as a pigtailed woman fought to get out of the embrace, then ran full-tilt towards Malroth just in time to tackle him as he reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the beach. “It’s so good to see you again, I got some cool ideas for us to try and make and Lulu said the festival got delayed from rain so we can help with that and Jules helped us find a new vein of gems in the mine and-“

“Whoa whoa, hang on-!” Malroth stumbled, less from the impact of his friend and more from trying to hug her back without losing grip on the gift. “Yeah, I’m glad to see you too! How did the thing with Goldirox go, did he give the okay?”

Sabine took a moment to catch her breath, before looking up at her best friend-slash-apprentice with the goofiest grin yet and removing the work glove on her left hand. “See for yourself!”

Malroth had to admit- he still didn’t get romantic stuff, but it was a really beautiful ring. He had heard from Lulu and the others that engagement rings tended to be large and showy, but the one on Sabine’s hand was smooth polished stone, with a thin band of gold running through the middle along with a line of three small gemstones. A short distance away Lulu was admiring something on Babs’ hand, presumably a ring of the same design.

“Honestly, Goldirox was easier to deal with than all the miners who still had a thing for Babs,’ Sabine continued. “He helped with that too, actually; threatened to close down all three bars until they could stop being creeps!

“That’s fantastic! I mean- having them all get called out is great, but this means you two are doing that marriage thing! Congratulations!”

“Thank you!” Sabine grinned again, before giving Malroth another hug. “I heard about the rain, things weren’t too rough without me were they?”

“Rough? Nah… I mean…” Malroth sat down on the steps, pulling his best friend along with him. “… Okay, a little rough. But the advice you give all the time wound up helping me get through. So… thanks.”

There was a few seconds pause as Sabine looked at Malroth, a little puzzled, before leaning in for another, calmer hug. “I meant the festival delays, you goof. But… I’m glad you’re okay, too. Wanna talk about it?”

“And spoil your big arrival party? No way- or, uh, not right now?” He corrected himself, seeing Sabine’s grin droop slightly. “I promise, I’m feeling okay. We can talk about it after you go say hi to everyone else.”

“… Alright.” The smile back on her face, Sabine held up her hand, and Malroth gave their traditional high-five in return. “Good seeing you again, Malroth. Traveling doesn’t feel the same without you AND Babs around, and I can’t wait to get back and celebrate the- hey, what’s that?”

Following Sabine’s gaze down, Malroth realized that while he had brought the gift box all the way to the beach, he hadn’t actually CLOSED said box. The light of the mid-morning sun glinted off of the polished red vase; the cracks were still visible, but instead of dark lines through the patina there were thin strokes of gold, crossing and connecting like shining threads that contrasted beautifully against the rich red colour of glazed clay.

“Well, uh…” Malroth took a breath, before smiling at his best friend, her fiancée, and the rest of the little group who had caught up to continue the reunion party.

“It’s your engagement present. And would you believe it used to be a statue?”

**Author's Note:**

> Kintsugi: a Japanese pottery technique where broken pieces are repaired by using lacquer mixed with powdered gold or silver. Seemed like something Malroth would be all about.
> 
> What else can I say except hi, my name is Kate and characters getting a handle on their mental health issues through mindfulness and support is my kink!
> 
> This felt really good to write: as someone going through my own bad brain stuff, it's nice to give those issues to characters I relate with and have them cope with things way better than I ever could. On behalf of all us destructive masters, keep on kicking butt and making cool stuff!


End file.
